


What Happens in Moscow

by TheSopherfly



Series: Sopherfly's Imagine Tony and Bucky prompts [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Developing Relationship, Discussion of Howard & Maria's deaths, Dissociative Identity Disorder, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Nightmares, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: Post Civil War. Tony gets kidnapped and thinks the team won't come for him - and he's right. For whatever reason, the rest of the team isn't going to save him. So color Tony completely dumbfounded when someone does show up - the last person he ever expected to see. Bucky Barnes.





	What Happens in Moscow

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story contains references to HYDRA, referenced violence and torture, blood, nightmares/PTSD, and psychological issues like insomnia and dissociative identity disorder. 
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](http://folklejend.tumblr.com) for beta reading!

At first, Tony thought it was a dream.

To be fair, after enough time spent tied to a chair, everything felt like a dream. Those ropes around his wrists and his ankles - were they real or imaginary? Was it pain or numbness radiating through his jaw? Was it anything at all? Tony felt like he was floating, suspended in midair, or maybe lying on his back in the water, the current carrying him away as the world turned dark.

“Stark.”

The darkness shrank back. Someone was saying his name, someone whose voice he’d heard before. Who was it? Tony blinked, forcing his tired eyes to focus. Steve? Couldn't be. Steve wasn't coming. Wouldn't come, not for him. Besides, it didn't matter who came for him. None of this was real. Tony blinked again, the streaks of light finally combining into an image. And then, Tony was _sure_ it was a dream. Long, dark hair. Bright blue eyes. Unmistakable metal arm. Someone must’ve repaired that, Tony thought to himself. It looked newer. Cleaner. Probably made of Vibranium.

_Focus, Stark._

Right. Barnes. Bucky Barnes. What was he doing here? Was this part of Ross’s plan? Was the Winter Soldier here to finish what Ross had started?

No. Tony could tell that wasn’t it. Barnes’s eyes were bright and focused, not hard and glassy like they’d been that first time he’d been triggered. This was _Bucky._ And that begged the question again: what was he doing here?

“You with me, Stark?”

Damn it. Had Tony been fading in and out? Probably. But if this was a dream, did it even matter?

“Yeah. I’m here. I’m awake.” Tony’s voice came out low and rough. _Shit._ He’d tried so hard not to scream. Screaming meant they were getting to you. But screaming was better than giving up.

Bucky knelt down in front of him. “Do you know where you are?”

Tony met Bucky’s eyes, then shook his head. “No.”

“This is the Sandbox. Old SHIELD facility turned HYDRA.” Bucky paused and looked Tony over, his eyes dark with concern. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?”

“No,” Tony said again.

“Forty-five hours.” Well. That would explain this whole thing feeling like a dream. Tony hadn’t slept in over two days, barring whatever time he’d spent unconscious.

“Can you tell me what they did to you?”

Tony squinted. “Torture. Can’t remember the specifics.”

Bucky’s expression hardened, and Tony flinched.

“Hey. Easy. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Tony swallowed, trying not to feel panicked when Bucky disappeared from view. “What’re you doing?”

“Untying you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Tony let his head fall back, his eyes closing. God, everything hurt. He was getting too old for this.

“D’you know who took you?” Bucky asked, working on the knot around Tony’s left wrist.

Tony thought back to that damn tranquilizer dart, how it had lodged itself into his shoulder before he’d even had time to react. “Ross. Ambushed me in my office.”

The ropes finally came loose, and Tony hissed in pain, drawing his arm up to his chest.

“But he ain’t the one who hurt you.”

“No.”

“Then who?”

Tony’s other hand came free, and _god,_ what a relief. He slouched forward, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers sliding into his hair. “A couple of big guys. Shaved heads, combat armor.”

“I already took care of them.”

The noise Tony made wasn’t quite a laugh, but it came close. “Of course you did.”

Bucky was down near Tony’s ankles now, and those knots weren’t as tight; no point when Tony hadn’t been able to reach them. They were undone in a matter of seconds, and then Tony could finally breathe _._ He gasped, a loud, embarrassing hiccup, then exhaled, lifting his face out of his hands. _Damn it._ Tony hated being restrained. The torture, he could take; but when Tony was tied up, people died. Usually right in front of him.

“Hey.” Bucky looked up at Tony, his expression soft and serious. “You okay?”

Shit. Those weren’t noises people made when they were okay, huh? “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky nodded, standing up and taking a step back. “Can you walk?”

“Well I’m _definitely_ not going to let you carry me.”

Apparently, Bucky wasn’t as much of a hardass as Tony thought. Tony saw the joke land, one corner of Bucky’s mouth tilting just slightly up.

“Wasn’t gonna try.” Bucky crossed toward the door, and Tony was suddenly afraid that Bucky might leave without him. He forced himself upright, ignoring the way his body screamed at him-

Except that didn’t quite work, because somehow Tony ended up on his knees in the dirt, his legs refusing to cooperate, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

“Stark.”

“Sorry. Sorry, I'm coming, I promise.”

Bucky was next to him again, so close that Tony swore he could feel heat radiating off of Bucky’s body.

“Here.” Bucky helped lift him up, sliding an arm around Tony’s waist. “Arm over my shoulders. There you go. C’mon.”

Tony did as he was told, letting Bucky haul him to his feet. “Sorry. Just… tired.”

“Don’t apologize. Just keep movin’.”

Those were instructions Tony could follow. He kept his weight braced against Bucky’s shoulders and moved one foot in front of the other, watching his step as they crossed through the hallway he’d been dragged down days before.

There were so many bodies. Dead bodies, Tony was sure. Bucky, unlike Steve, didn’t take chances with things like that. Blood didn’t normally bother Tony, but right now, the sight was making his head spin. He closed his eyes, fighting against the heaviness in his own limbs.

“You okay, Stark?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~

When Tony woke up next, he and Bucky were in the quinjet.

“Ugh.” Tony rubbed a hand over his face. “I passed out again, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, nobody saw me carryin’ you.”

Tony groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. That was just perfect. Not only was Bucky Barnes coming to Tony’s rescue - which he really needed to ask about, but one goddamn thing at a time - but Bucky was carrying him like a damsel in distress. He was _not_ a damsel.

Tony sat up, trying to get his bearings. He was lying on a makeshift cot, some coats thrown over three small wooden crates. “Um. I-”

“You got questions,” Bucky interrupted. “Let me try to answer ’em before you hurt yourself thinkin’ too hard.”

“Okay.” Tony didn’t have the mental capacity to argue. “How did you find me?”

“You still had the burner. Idiots were stupid enough not to destroy it when they searched you.”

“Alright.” Tony rubbed a hand over his face, as if that would help him think more clearly. “If you knew where I was, why did you come alone?”

“Steve wanted to hold a fuckin’ meeting and come up with a plan. It was gonna be hours before they started movin’, if they decided to come at all.”

“So you came after me without telling them?”

Bucky nodded. “Wasn’t worth wastin’ time over. You never know how long will be too long.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. He blinked, staring at Bucky, his brows drawn down into a frown. “Is that just some soldier thing? Did you wait too long once and now you’ve decided you’re never doing it again? Or do you actually give a shit what happens to me?”

“Both.”

That answer didn’t make Tony any less confused. Tony had tried to _kill_ Bucky the last time they’d met. It hadn’t exactly been a friendly exchange. What reason would Bucky Barnes have to care about him?

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Did you mean to ask that out loud?”

_Fucking damn it._

“I really didn’t,” Tony said helplessly. “But now that it’s out there, maybe you should just answer it so I’m not sitting here wondering.”

Bucky considered Tony for a moment. “You’re a good person. You’re important to a lot of people. And you were tryin’ to help Stevie in Siberia.” Bucky paused, looking down at his hands. “’Sides. I owe you.”

Tony frowned. That was - huh. That part about trying to help was actually true. He'd somehow forgotten that he’d gone to Siberia to help Steve, to do the right thing _._ All those good intentions, and everything had still fallen apart.

_No good deed goes unpunished, right?_

“Sorry,” Tony murmured. “Sorry, I just got sidetracked for a second there, brain’s not firing on all cylinders yet. Mental tangents, you know. You said - you said you owe me. For what?”

“Your parents.”

Tony forced himself not to look away. He’d had plenty of time to think about this, to work out in his mind who was really to blame. The Winter Soldier might've been the weapon, but HYDRA had chosen to wield it. HYDRA had given the orders. None of it had ever been Bucky’s fault.

“You were brainwashed,” Tony said.

Bucky looked away. “I still did it.”

Just then, that was a little too much for Tony to process. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. His joints ached. His wrists and ankles burned. Everything else was a dull roar underneath the pounding that had started in his head.

“Do you know where the medkit got to? My head is killing me.”

Bucky didn’t say anything as he got up and retrieved the medkit from underneath the ship’s main console. He pulled out a water bottle and packet of pills, passing them over.

“We’re landing in less than an hour. Any injuries that won’t keep till then? You bleedin’ anywhere I don’t know about?”

“No. No, just the headache. Everything else can wait.” Tony tore open the packet and swallowed down the pills, chugging the water until half the bottle was gone. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“Got a place in Moscow,” Bucky replied.

“Moscow. Okay.”

~

Moscow, as it turned out, was freezing. Even with two coats, Tony's sweat turned to ice as they walked the half mile to the motel. He had expected something more secluded, but he wasn't about to argue. Unless Ross had put some kind of homing device on him, this was probably the last place anyone would come looking, anyway.

Tony wrapped his arms around himself as they stepped into the entryway, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. “This place is fucking cold,” he said, and maybe it sounded whiny, but his patience was just about shot.

Bucky was already busy adjusting the thermostat. “Give it a minute to warm up. I promise, in a few hours you’ll be beggin’ for me to turn it down.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Bucky crossed the room, opening one of the dresser drawers. “Should be some things in here that are about your size. Bed is yours - I’ll take the couch.”

Tony nodded, struck by a fresh wave of exhaustion. “Okay.”

“I got a better medkit in the bathroom. You should let me take a look at you before you sleep.”

“Ugh,” Tony groaned, wondering how many more times he’d have to use that word before the day was over. “Is that really necessary?”

“You still don’t remember what they did to you?”

Tony shook his head no.

“Then yeah. It's necessary.”

~

Tony stepped into the bathroom, already feeling too exposed under the harsh lights. He took a deep breath, trying to relax. This was due diligence. He still didn't remember anything. He might very well be more injured than he thought.

He managed to peel off his socks and his jeans, but the shirt refused to cooperate. Well. It wasn't the shirt so much as his arm. He vaguely remembered someone doing something to his shoulder, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember _what_. Something painful, obviously. Something that made it impossible to get all the way undressed, which meant he was standing stupidly on the bathmat in nothing but his boxers and a Black Sabbath tee. Tony scowled.

“Before you say anything about me not following directions,” Tony said, pausing when Bucky met his eyes from the doorway, “I actually couldn’t get the shirt off.”

“How come?”

“Shoulder,” Tony said. “Left one.”

“I can help you take it off. Or I can cut it, if-”

“No,” Tony said quickly. Then, feeling just a little embarrassed for being so attached to a stupid shirt, “No, just… help me take it off.”

“Okay.”

Tony hadn't expected Bucky to be so gentle. Bucky lifted the right side of the hem slowly, peeling it off of Tony’s right arm and turning the shirt inside out as he eased it over Tony’s head. It slid down over Tony's left shoulder without any resistance, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” Tony said, wishing he had something to cover the arc-reactor scars on his chest. He shouldn't have worried. Something else had stolen Bucky’s focus, something on his back that he couldn't see. Tony craned his neck to look in the mirror behind him.

_Oh._

“They whipped me.” Tony licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He arched his back, the motion totally involuntary, remembering the sting of the leather snapping against his skin.

Tony glanced back at Bucky. He was flexing his metal hand, his eyes as dark as his expression.

Tony frowned. “Bucky. What-”

“Killed ’em too quick,” Bucky said in a low voice. “Should’ve let ’em suffer.”

That was some kind of intense. Bucky looked every inch the Winter Soldier, cold and calculating and lethal, ready to snap someone's neck with no effort at all.

“Why do you care that they did this to me?” Tony asked, positive he hadn’t earned that kind of reaction. “I mean, aside from the normal, human reasons. Why does this upset you so much?”

A muscle worked in Bucky’s jaw. “I ain’t upset.”

Tony wasn’t falling for that. The look in Bucky’s eyes was murderous. Strictly speaking, Bucky had _already_ committed murder for Tony. Tony had a right to know why.

“Hey.” Tony reached out and grabbed Bucky’s wrist, only realizing after the fact how dangerous a move that could’ve been. He forged ahead, determined not to lose his nerve. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you here. I’ve cooperated with everything you’ve asked me to do, and sure, part of that is because I’m tired as hell, but I don't normally just do what people say.” Tony loosened his grip just a fraction. “Explain to me why I matter so much.”

Bucky looked at the ground. “It’s stupid. It won’t make sense to you.”

“You obviously have no concept of how smart I am.” Tony released Bucky’s wrist, willing himself not to sound frustrated. “Try me.”

Bucky sat down on the edge of the tub. “The Soldier wants to protect you. I can’t really control it.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “The Soldier.”

Bucky nodded. “I think it’s… What do they call it? Dissociative identity disorder.”

“You know what that is?” Tony asked, blinking in surprise.

“Sam gave me a copy of the DSM-5 when I ran outta books to read. Self-diagnosed a couple things.”

“I imagine.” Tony thought he probably had a few undiagnosed psychological disorders himself, not that he was about to consult the book about them. “So… The Soldier wants me - what? Safe?”

Bucky shrugged. “He likes you. I ain’t in a position to tell him what to do.”

Tony huffed, biting down on his lower lip. That was too much information and not enough at the same time. Bucky couldn't tell the Soldier what to do; that meant the Soldier probably wasn't just some small side personality. Hell, maybe the Soldier had equal real estate in Bucky's head.

“Did the Soldier tell you to come find me?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

Briefly, Tony closed his eyes. The Winter Soldier had told Bucky to save him. That was maybe the craziest thing he'd ever heard, and still some part of him was flattered. Confused, and maybe just a little bit terrified, but flattered nonetheless.

“Okay.” Tony nodded once, opening his eyes. “What’s next?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you answered my question. I figure that means I owe you a minute or two of cooperation before I start being a pain in your ass.”

Bucky smiled so briefly that if Tony had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

“Oughta get you cleaned up,” Bucky said, crossing past Tony to pull down a towel from the cupboard. “Bath or shower?”

Tony considered the question. Given his recent track record with maintaining consciousness, staying vertical was probably the best plan. “Shower,” he replied.

~

Tony held a hand under the water, waiting until it was hot before slipping out of his boxers and stepping carefully under the spray.

“Okay, Mr. Modesty,” Tony called, “you can come back in now.”

Bucky had agreed to sit in the bathroom while Tony showered so that if Tony started to feel faint, Bucky could catch him before he cracked his head open on the edge of the tub.

Tony was tired. God, he was bone-tired, and even with the temperature notched up as high as it would go, he still felt frozen. He blinked and lowered his head, watching as dirt and mud and blood trickled into the clear water, staining it as it swirled down the drain. There was more blood than he’d expected, and it stung - fuck, it stung so bad, Tony had to brace himself against the tiles to stay upright.

“You still good?” came Bucky’s voice from outside the curtain.

Tony nodded, taking too long to realize Bucky couldn’t actually see him. “Yes. Yeah. Sorry.”

“You sure?”

Tony took in a deep breath and held it, letting it out slowly. “Hurts like a bitch.”

“I got somethin’ to help with that once you're done.”

‘Something’ turned out to be a very effective topical anesthetic. It took the sting out of the angry red marks on Tony’s back and the rope burns around his wrists and ankles. Tony could've cried in relief.

“Thank you,” Tony said, still surprised at the gentleness of Bucky's hands. Snapping bone one minute, applying ointment the next. These two facets of Bucky Barnes were giving Tony whiplash.

Bucky left Tony alone to put on comfortable (and very unfashionable) flannel pajamas. They were a size too big, but they were warm and soft, and slipping his arms into the shirt didn't aggravate Tony's shoulder. When he finally emerged from the bathroom, the covers on the bed had been pulled back, and Bucky was lying on the couch.

“You alright?” Bucky asked, sounding just sincere enough that Tony bit back his snarky response.

“Yeah. I'm good.”

Bucky didn't say anything else, and Tony climbed into bed, falling asleep just minutes after his head hit the pillows.

~

When Tony woke, light was already filtering in through the blinds. Tony sat up, blinking the sun out of his eyes. Damn. He was sore. Probably not as sore as he could've been - he'd definitely been hurt worse than this - but sore enough that his body tried to keep him from rolling out of bed.

“Mornin’,” Bucky said. “There’s coffee, if you want it.”

Did Bucky know who he was dealing with? Of _course_ Tony wanted coffee.

“Thanks,” Tony replied. He crossed slowly toward the coffee maker, surprised when Bucky stepped into his path to hand him a mug.

“Clothes laid out for you on the table, too. Might be a little big.”

“That’s okay.” Tony reached out to take the mug, his fingers brushing Bucky’s metal hand. Right. That was on Tony’s list of things to ask. “Who made you the new arm?”

“T’Challa’s got a team that makes his suit. Steve convinced ’em to do it. Said it was worth the risk. Apparently I’m more asset than menace as long as Stevie’s there to keep me in check.”

Tony nodded, stepping away to set the mug down on the dresser and fill it with what promised to be extremely strong coffee, if the smell was anything to go by. “Do you like it?” Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s better than the last one.”

“That doesn’t sound like you like it.” Tony considered Bucky, taking a small sip from his mug. He wanted to offer to _fix_ it - Tony could take tech like that from good to great in a heartbeat - but for some reason he kept silent, searching Bucky’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Bucky frowned. “For what?”

“For saving me,” Tony said, for once allowing himself to be entirely serious. “I never want anyone to have to rescue me. But I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.”

Tony shook his head, still not quite understanding why Bucky had singled him out as someone worth saving in the first place.

 _Not Bucky,_ Tony reminded himself. _The Soldier._ _Not the same thing. Right?_

“So,” Tony said, “what’s the plan?”

“Natasha’s goin’ after Ross. Might take a couple days. Soon as we get the call, you can go home.”

Tony wondered whether going home would really benefit anyone. Thanks to a little coaching, Spider-Kid had the city's supervillains and criminals pretty much under control. Pepper was running the company as well as she ever had. Rhodey had made literal strides in his physical therapy; he didn’t need the exoskeleton any more, and with the modifications Tony had made to the suit, he could still enforce the Accords and serve up Iron Patriot justice. What else was left for Tony to do in New York but babysit the few Avengers that were left?

“What if I don’t want to go home? What if I want to go somewhere else?”

Bucky glanced over, a question in his eyes. “Once we get the all clear, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

Tony nodded once. “I'll hold you to that.”

~

Tony spent most of the first day sleeping. Two cups of coffee weren't enough to keep him awake, not when his body had been so carelessly abused. He was thankful that Bucky had woken him up in the evening and forced him to eat, otherwise he probably wouldn't have woken up at all.

The second day was harder to fill than the first. His body was like a battery - give it too much of a charge, and it took forever to drain back down to empty. He spent the day awake and restless. Being off the grid drove Tony crazy. He felt lost, useless without his tech, and Bucky’s collection of books and music left something to be desired.

The lights had been out for over an hour, and Tony was still spread eagle on the bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He knew based on Bucky's breathing that Bucky was still awake, too; apparently after two days trapped in a room, neither of them were feeling particularly restful.

“Insomnia,” Tony said, sitting up and dropping his head briefly into his hands. “Pretty sure that’s one of the disorders you read about. Right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said after a few seconds.

“That’s one of mine.”

“I got that one, too.”

Well. Misery did love company. Tony rubbed at one eye with the palm of his hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

“’Course.”

“Okay.” Tony licked his lips. “How much of you is Bucky and how much of you is the Soldier?”

“About fifty-fifty.”

“Which one is in charge?”

“Bucky, mostly. The Soldier’s one hell of a backseat driver, though.”

Tony laughed. “So what you’re saying is, it gets crowded up there.”

“That’s one way to explain it.”

“Believe it or not, I can actually relate. Too many ideas and not enough space.” Tony might not have had multiple personalities, but he didn't always feel in control of his own mind. It made him feel better, knowing he wasn't the only one with trouble keeping everything straight in his head.

 _Well,_ Tony thought. _No use sitting around trying to sleep. Might as well find something to do._ He got out of bed and headed toward the cabinet, opening the small door and rifling through it.

“What’re you doin’?”

“I remember seeing a deck of cards in here - there it is.” Tony pulled out the deck and sat back down on the bed. “Well? Come on. Play cards with me.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Damn, you’re pushy.”

“Some people find it charming.” Tony finished shuffling and split the deck, looking expectantly at Bucky.

Bucky waited another beat, then stood, walking over to the bed and sitting down in front of Tony. “Okay, Stark. What’re we playin’?”

~

The third morning, Tony woke up screaming.

He knew it wasn't real. He _knew_ it was only a dream, and he still couldn't stop it. The pain kept coming over and over and over again in brutal strokes. He was bruised and bleeding, and they kept asking him questions, questions he refused to answer. Question. Pain. Question. Pain. The cycle was endless, repeating until he couldn't take it anymore. _Please, stop._

Suddenly Tony was awake, his breath coming in short gasps, tears clouding his eyes. “Shit,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around himself.

_Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it._

“Hey,” Bucky said, but Tony was only vaguely aware, barely noticing when Bucky sat down on the bed next to him. “It's alright.”

Tony shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, trying to breathe. “ _Shit._ ”

“Hey, c’mon. It ain’t real.” Strong arms circled Tony from behind, holding tight. “Stark.” Bucky lowered his chin onto Tony’s shoulder. “Tony. I got you.”

Something about Bucky saying his name slowed the spinning panic long enough for Tony to catch his breath. He blinked, opening his eyes. “Sorry. I’m - I'm sorry. I haven’t had a nightmare like that in - shit.”

Months. The word Tony was looking for was _months_. It had been so long since he’d had a nightmare, he’d almost forgotten what they were like.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Bucky said, loosening his grip a little. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Tony swallowed, suddenly aware of just how many muscles were pressed up against him. That was more than a little overwhelming, and for some reason, Tony didn't want Bucky to let go. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Bucky released him slowly, not moving too far. Tony held back a whimper, instantly missing the contact.

_Well. That's new._

Tony bit his tongue in frustration. What he wanted was comfort, not Bucky. Right? But... With Bucky holding him, he wasn't as afraid. As long as he didn't have the suit, maybe Bucky was the next best thing.

Tony turned around, looking up into Bucky’s face. “This is a really unreasonable thing for me to ask, but… Don't go back to the couch. There's plenty of room for both of us here, and I… I think it would help me if you stayed.”

Bucky didn't hesitate. “’Course I’ll stay.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. Really? Had it really been that easy?

Tony slipped back under the covers, flooded with relief when Bucky followed his lead. Bucky’s eyes were bright even in the dark, and Tony turned onto his side, holding his breath when Bucky's arms snaked around him from behind.

“Too much?” Bucky asked cautiously.

Tony shook his head. “No.” Too easy, maybe. More right than Tony wanted to admit. But definitely not too much.

~

The fourth day passed without incident. Tony’s injuries were healing well, and he used the empty pages of an old notebook to sketch designs for a new robot. Bucky went into town to restock on supplies and came back with takeout from the local pub, which the two of them ate together in silence at opposite ends of the coffee table. They didn't talk about their new sleeping arrangement; Bucky slipped into bed with Tony entirely unprompted, and it was embarrassing how much Tony liked having Bucky’s body wrapped around his own.

When Tony woke up on the fifth morning, he was alone. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. He could hear the faint sound of the shower running - that would explain why Bucky wasn't in bed - and he smelled the coffee before he saw it.

He sat up, taking stock. His wrists and ankles were still sore, but the ache had died down to something more manageable. The skin on his back felt too tight, and it alternated between hurting and itching, which wasn't helpful or comfortable. Those wounds would probably take longer to heal, even with the ointment Bucky applied to them every day.

Tony was about to stand to get himself some coffee when he heard the door to the bathroom creak open. He looked up just in time to see Bucky standing in the doorway, wearing a towel and nothing else.

Tony stared, completely caught off guard. “Wow,” he said before he could stop himself. Bucky had muscles for days. The definition was incredible. Tony had expected Bucky to be fit. He hadn't expected to like it so much.

“Um,” Tony said, his mouth dry. “I guess if you're done, I’ll go take a shower.”

“Alright,” Bucky said, stepping out of the doorway.

Tony stood and headed toward the bathroom, his eyes trained on the floor as he passed Bucky and shut the door quietly behind him.

~

Tony turned on the water and paced the bathroom, trying to clear the image of a naked Bucky Barnes from his mind. He’d never even seen Bucky naked. Shirtless, yes. Naked, no. It didn’t matter; it took no effort to imagine everything Bucky had to offer, every beautiful muscular inch.

Damn it. Three days ago, these thoughts hadn't even been on Tony's radar. He had just been thankful to be _safe_. Now… Well. Now his mind was painting pictures he'd never asked for. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an intense sexual response.

Tony closed his eyes for a few seconds, then stripped and stepped into the shower. It must've been the proximity. Being in such close quarters with someone was bound to produce some kind of attraction, right? Or maybe… Maybe it was something else. Something _more_.

That was crazy, wasn't it?

 _Not that crazy,_ Tony thought. At least, he was pretty sure he’d heard of crazier things.

~

Bucky was sitting on the couch, flipping through one of the coffee table books, when Tony asked the blunt question.

“When you said the Soldier likes me,” he said carefully, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “How did you mean that? Does he just think I'm a good person? Or does he _like_ me?”

Bucky stared at him for a long time. “Which one’s gonna freak you out less?”

“Just tell me the truth,” Tony said, moving to stand in front of Bucky. “I promise I won't freak out. I have a pretty high tolerance for weird shit.”

“The second one.” The way Bucky said it, Tony could’ve sworn it was an apology. “He likes you. A lot. I kinda see where he's comin’ from.”

Tony bit his lip. “So you like me. Both of you.”

“Yeah. We do.”

Tony nodded. Without saying a word, he climbed up onto the couch, straddling Bucky’s lap.

Bucky tilted his head back, his eyes going wide. “What're you doin’?”

“Just… Let me try something.” Tony took a final steadying breath before leaning in, closing the distance and sealing their mouths together in a kiss.

Bucky barely moved at first, the press of lips painfully tentative.

Tony pulled back just far enough to say, “Come on, Barnes. Kiss me back.”

Tony shifted a little, hooking one hand into Bucky’s hair and tugging gently. Bucky’s lips parted, and Tony kissed him again, harder this time. _That_ got the response Tony was looking for. Bucky growled and surged forward, hands moving possessively to Tony’s waist, tongue tracing the seam of Tony’s lips before sliding easily into his mouth. Tony felt his system flooding with dopamine and probably a thousand other chemicals (who could even remember their names anymore?); his heart thundered in his ears, and his body thrummed with something like electricity.

Tony had no idea how long it lasted. Hours? Minutes? Somewhere in between? By the time he pulled away, he had completely forgotten how to breathe. He swallowed, resting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Bucky. The Soldier. Both of you.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?” Tony asked, brushing his nose softly against Bucky’s.

“Tony.” Bucky leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Tell me this ain’t just ’cause I helped you.”

Tony thought about saying something sarcastic, but the seriousness in Bucky's voice made him reconsider. “It's not. I'm not doing this to thank you. I'm doing it because I want to.”

Tony was about to kiss Bucky just to prove his point, but Bucky beat him to it, metal hand holding Tony’s chin in place. This kiss was less forceful, but not any less intense, and something about Bucky holding him entirely still made Tony desperate for _more_.

A loud chime shocked them both apart, and Tony jumped, biting Bucky’s lip entirely by accident. “Shit. Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Bucky said. He reached forward, grabbing the phone from the coffee table and thumbing in the passcode. “It’s a text from Steve.” Bucky scanned through the message, then set the phone aside. “It’s done.”

Done. Tony should’ve felt relieved. Really, he was too preoccupied to care. “So. What now?”

“I made you a promise, remember? Said I’d take you wherever you wanted.”

“Yeah. I guess you did.” Tony let his hands rest on either side of Bucky's neck, his thumbs tracing Bucky’s jaw. “Lucky for you, I don't actually want to go anywhere."

"No?"

"Nope." Tony leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against Bucky's lips. "Believe it or not, I'm exactly where I want to be."

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Find me on [tumblr](http://sopherfly.tumblr.com) for updates on things I'm working on.


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